


fire finds a home

by stannarding



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: M/M, literally just self-indulgent smoochfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 18:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14195244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stannarding/pseuds/stannarding
Summary: Sano settles his hand on Ibuki’s shoulder, a little softer than a cuff, and Ibuki is definitely dying right now. It’s not the worst place to die, he supposes, hidden away in Sano’s room with a bottle of booze between them and candlelight in Sano’s hair.





	fire finds a home

Sano’s laugh is low and honeyed and Ibuki might actually be on the edge of a death by heat, come to think of it. He can’t even remember what he said to make Sano laugh; his mind is working too fast, like rabbits on the run, and he _wishes_ he could remember. If he could remember, he could do it again. He’s made Sano laugh before, hasn’t he? He can do it again, if he just remembers how.

Sano settles his hand on Ibuki’s shoulder, a little softer than a good cuff might be, and Ibuki is _definitely_ dying right now, actually. It’s not the worst place to die, he supposes, hidden away in Sano’s room with a bottle of booze between them and candlelight in Sano’s hair. His face is so _hot,_ and his hands are trembling when he reaches out for the bottle again, and _wow,_ maybe he’s just going to combust.

Here lies Ibuki, they’ll say: went up like a candle’s flame because a handsome boy laughed at him. And it all happened in the best possible way, too.

Sano shakes his shoulder a little, and Ibuki nearly fumbles the booze. Sano laughs again, and even though this time it’s kind of _at Ibuki,_ it doesn’t sting. It’s just _nice,_ actually, which makes Ibuki’s face glow warmer. Fuck. This is so bad. He shouldn’t _like_ being laughed at, except… well, he’s in on the joke, and Sano’s laughter is so _deep._

“You’re not drunk, are you?” Sano asks, stretching one leg out along Ibuki’s side. If Ibuki put down the bottle, he could reach out and trace the edge of that leg, the places where the fabric falls taut against skin -- except, wow, _no,_ he’s not gonna do that.

Instead, he bristles, because he figures that’s what Sano expects of him and it’s easier than trying to think up some other reaction, and tucks the bottle against his chest to keep his hands busy. “I’ve had less than you!”

“You’re _smaller_ than me. You’d get drunk a whole lot faster, even without being a lightweight -- which you definitely are,” Sano says, but he’s smiling again, and his hand moves to ruffle Ibuki’s hair. Except, as it goes, he kind of drags his fingers along the line of muscle in Ibuki’s neck, and -- _oh._ Okay. Maybe Ibuki _could_ reach out to touch Sano’s leg, or maybe he should just keep clutching the booze before he does something he’s gonna regret in the morning. Or regret in the next few moments. Or --

He scowls. It’s easy. Not a lot of things in life are easy, he’s noticing, but pulling at anger to hide all the other feelings twisting their way through his veins is _definitely_ easy.  “Not that much smaller. You’re only a few inches taller than me, anyway, and you’re _not_ that much broader.”

Sano withdraws his hand; Ibuki realizes, with a jolt of those feelings he was trying to tamp down, that he _hadn’t done it yet._ He’d been sitting there with his hand just… in Ibuki’s hair. Which is fine. And normal. That’s a fine, normal thing. People just do that to other people that they’re having friendly drinks with. Secretly. In the middle of the night. While one of them is _certain_ his face is on fire.

Dying here would be okay, Ibuki figures. Fulfilling, maybe.

Sano props his chin on his hand and levels a narrow-eyed look that Ibuki can’t quite read. That’s not surprising, exactly. Ibuki has never been much for reading people -- although he’d never even tried to do it before he’d gotten in with the Shinsengumi, come to think of it -- and he really, _really_ doesn’t get Sano.

Although he wants to.

“You’re staring,” he says. Sano _hums_ a little at that, like maybe he’s agreeing without outright agreeing, and then reaches forward to pluck the bottle out of Ibuki’s hands. The candlelight reflects on it while he puts it down, out of Ibuki’s reach. Distantly, Ibuki thinks he should protest this. They came here to drink, and Sano is preventing that from happening, and that should probably matter a lot more than it does.

But then Sano leans forward -- he _is_ tall, tall and lanky and able to close the distance between them like it’s nothing -- and slides his fingers into Ibuki’s hair.

Oh. Oh, no, nevermind. There’s nothing here Ibuki wants to protest. There’s nothing here Ibuki could protest, even if he could find the words behind his suddenly-heavy tongue.

“ _You’re_ staring,” he says cheerfully, normally, like he’s not stroking long fingers through locks of Ibuki’s hair. How does he _do_ that? Ibuki has never, not once, managed to keep his cool like this in front of someone he wanted to kiss. Not that Sano definitely wants to kiss him, or anything, but… maybe....

Sano tugs at a lock of his hair. “You’ve been staring for days, actually.”

Has he?

It’s not like he hasn’t noticed Sano before. It’s hard not to. Sano is tall and handsome and ever-present; he’s the first of the men with a joke and the first to say something kind when it’s most needed. He has a temper, true, but it’s not exactly explosive -- it simmers, and Ibuki’s only seen him lose it once or twice. The rest of the Shinsengumi usually ignore Ibuki or sneer at him, but Sano just… talks to him like he’s a person, not a liability or an embarrassment.

Maybe he _has_ been staring.

He swallows; Sano slides his hand down his cheek, runs his thumb along Ibuki’s jawline. His hands are calloused, and they leave sparks in their wake. Ibuki’s skin tingles, and it burns a little, and it’s just...

Yeah, he’s been staring.

“Does it bother you?” He asks. His voice breaks a little, and the warmth sliding through his veins dims. What if it _does_ bother Sano? But if it bothered him, he wouldn’t have invited Ibuki to drink with him. He wouldn’t be touching Ibuki’s cheek like this, wouldn’t be watching him with quite that intensity in his eyes, wouldn’t be… _here._ Ibuki bites his lip and tilts his head into Sano’s hand, and then he answers his own question, firm. “It doesn’t bother you.”

Sano grins. Ibuki watches his lips move, waiting for the answer, the confirmation of what he’s pretty sure is true --

But then Sano is _kissing_ him.

In an instant, Ibuki forgets what he’s supposed to be doing with his hands. He forgets that he _has_ hands: all he can focus on is Sano tugging him closer, winding an arm around his backand pulling him forward. Sano’s hands are warm and his chest is warmer, and he tastes like alcohol, and _now_ Ibuki feels well and truly drunk. He draws back from Sano for just a moment, and when he opens his eyes, Sano is _right there,_ studying him.

“You alright?” he asks, brushing Ibuki’s hair away from his forehead. “I don’t think I misread that one, but --”

Ibuki shakes his head sharply, enjoying the scratch of Sano’s nails against his scalp when he does it. Sano looks serious and sweet and _fuck_ , that’s a lot of power to have in one set of pretty eyes. “No. No, you didn’t misread that one. I just -- wanted to see -- nevermind. Do it again.”

Sano grins again, which is not precisely what Ibuki was asking for. Then, he kisses Ibuki again, pulling him the rest of the way into his lap, which is _much_ more in line with what Ibuki wanted. Ibuki has a split second to panic over the idea that he might get hard over _this,_ that Sano might notice with them pressed together this way, and then he remembers that Sano’s tongue is in his mouth and they might be past the point where that’s embarrassing. But still, he’s not sure that...

He draws back again and settles his hand on Sano’s shoulder: again, Sano looks at him patiently, silently, waiting for him to tell him what’s wrong. It’s… not something Ibuki has ever thought about before, but it’s _nice_ that Sano doesn’t press, even before Ibuki speaks. “I don’t wanna sleep with you tonight.”

Sano tilts his other shoulder; for a moment, Ibuki is unhelpfully distracted by the shifting of muscle, but he snaps back when Sano speaks just as levelly, just as lightly as he had before.  “That’s fine, Ryunosuke. You wanna stay a little longer anyway?”

Ibuki grins, now, and winds his fingers around the tie in Sano’s hair. It would look a lot better if it were gone, he figures, but he’s got some time to get around to that. He’ll catch hell if he’s not back in Serizawa’s quarters by morning, but morning is a long, long way away.

“Yeah,” he says, barely more than a breath against Sano’s mouth. Maybe he won’t end up dying over a little laughter and a couple of kisses after all: he’s pretty sure Sano can do a lot better than that, and even if he doesn’t wanna find out tonight, he’s not opposed to seeing where things go in the days to come. Maybe he should stare more often. Maybe he should’ve started staring sooner. “Yeah, I can stay a little while, Sano.”

This time, he kisses Sano, and the fire settles itself comfortably into his bones.

**Author's Note:**

> you can fight me and my army of italicized words


End file.
